


A Good Swat

by gala_apples



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris sees something he wants and goes for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Swat

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is wondering where this comes from, if you watch the end of 1/02, right after the English class scene, when Sid is hyperventilating? Well, Tony slaps him hard, and while Michelle looks offended and Anwar raises his eyebrows, Chris looks seriously impressed. It's at 37:05.

Chris thinks about it for a bit, while he's in class. He's supposed to be writing notes, of course, but he hasn't written notes for years. He'll do what he always does, study with Jal or Michelle or Tony the day before (the morning of) an exam. They're all fairly good at shoving information into his brain hard enough that he can retain it for a few hours, spilling it over his test page and bidding it adieu. Notes are for people that need to remember facts for uni, and that's not him. As shit as that might be, there's no sense in whining about it. Hell, even if he had the time he wouldn't have the dosh.

It's possible 'thinks about it' is a kind description. What he's really doing it playing it over and over again, in ten second bursts. It's almost trippy; something like the youtube videos Sid always finds for them to watch when they get stoned, fractals and flashing colours and shit. It never changes, Sid hyperventilates, Anwar basically pokes him in the face, Tony says 'christsakes', and gives him a good one. A gorgeous one, really.

Maybe Chris is fucked up, thinking that Tony's slap was basically the sexiest thing he's ever seen. Maybe it's what's known as Two Girls One Cup Syndrome- at some point you just stop finding normally sexy things sexy, and need to crank it up a notch. Not that Chris likes that vid or anything, the first time he saw it he nearly puked with laughter, but it gets old quick. But it doesn't matter if he's fucked up, because he's a fucked up bloke that knows what he wants. And that's for the power in Tony's swing to be slightly redirected.

It doesn't take long to come up with a theory. Well, more desperate hope than theory, really, but you've got to stay positive about things. What if Tony could be convinced that slapping someone's arse isn't much different than slapping someone's face? After all, it's all just skin.

Following the theory is a plan. What if he offers Tony a few pills in return for a favour to be used at a later date? And then immediately following giving him the E, he asks for a spanking? He'll only be out about 15 pounds, and a great experience richer.

To Chris, it seems pretty brilliant. He waits impatiently for the end of class, and texts Tony to meet him at his place after classes are over. It doesn't matter that he's got one left, he needs to go home. If he accidentally leaves a twenty pound banknote laying around the house, mum will be out to the pub before he has the chance to blink. And then he'll have the place to himself, and whatever noises he happens to make.

It's a long hour before Tony's knocking on his door. Chris could have wanked a dozen times, but he didn't want to waste his energy. Of course, as he stamps down the stairs to get the door, he realises the alternative is being hard while talking to him, and Tony's the type to notice that shit immediately. To distract him, even the slightest bit, he waves Tony in and goes to the fridge for beer.

"'Meet me at my house, Chris. Come alone.' If you're trying for ominous, I've got to tell you I'll need a haunted house and a lightning storm before I'm remotely terrified." Tony smiles, and Chris takes a swallow of beer so he doesn't have to smile back.

"I've got a proposition."

"Yeah?"

Most people would find that smile intimidating, if they weren't drawn like a stoner to lighters by it. Chris likes the power behind it, but knows he hasn't won anything yet. To get what he wants, he needs to play this right. Unfortunately words aren't exactly his strong suit. At least not when he's trying to figure out how to say stuff right, when he's got the chance to ramble he can be pretty damn entertaining, if he says so himself.

"I've got some pretty sweet shit in. Yellow crowns, mix is about fifty fifty." Minus whatever's cut into it, but that goes without saying. Fifty fifty's his favourite kind. Some like the methy pills, because they want to dance for days on end. Some like the MDMA pills, because they just want to have a giant lovefest, knowing someone loves you unconditionally because they blinked in your direction, being able to eat a girl out for three hours straight. Personally, Chris likes being horny and adorable and hyper all at once.

"I'll buy ten." Tony reaches for his wallet and starts counting notes.

"How about you'll buy five, and the other five are for a favour?" He'd planned on giving away three, but if five secures the deal it's good enough.

"Deal." Chris takes the twenty two quid without counting it, it's not like it's Posh Kenneth.

"I'm calling in my favour," he says a beat later.

"What's that?" Tony asks, looking at the baggie of tiny pills. It's a bit late to realise his plan is flawed. Tony can just give him the pills back if he doesn't like the idea. He should have waited until after the next party, when they were already gone.

Fuck it. He's gotten this far, he might as well finish off. "You've got a good swing, yeah?"

"You want to invite me to squash? Because you're going to need more than five free pills to make that happen."

"No, you fuck. I want a spanking." He's not blushing, he's not blushing, he's not- alright, so he's blushing. He's a man, a man can admit when they blush like tiny little girls.

"You want a spanking?"

'For five pills. That's two nights of fun, for twenty minutes of slapping. Logically, that's like, how many times does twenty go into forty eight?"

"That's not how you'd do that math."

"Whatever, fuck. It's a good deal, is all I'm saying."

Tony looks at him, stares really. Chris knows his face is bright red, but he won't look away. Can't. A sign of weakness, and Tony will laugh in his face. Probably pocket the free pills as well.

He knows he's won when Tony tucks the baggie into the folds of his wallet. The leather piece falls to the floor with a slap, because they all by know that pills in back pockets of trousers melt, and then it's a wasted night. "Here, or in your bedroom?"

Chris doesn't think about it for a second before replying "bedroom". He's got two reasons, neither of which Tony need to know. The first is if mum hasn't found a man to leech off of, to buy drinks for her for the rest of the night, she'll be coming home early, and he hardly needs her walking in and interrupting, now does he? And the second is, it would be fucked up to get hard every time he walks into the living room. Much better to have associations with his bedroom. He wanks almost every time he's in it anyway.

Once he's standing in a pile of his tossed around clothing, he unbuckles his belt. The weight of the jeans make them fall to the ground, and his pants are the next to go.

"Oh fuck, really?" Chris comes millimeters from smiling. It's a mad, brilliant thought that he's freaked Tony out a bit, people work for years to be able to top Tony Stonem in anything. On the other hand, if Tony's freaked out he won't do it, and that would just be a crime.

"Can't feel it through five layers, can I?"

Tony sits on the edge of his bed and closes his eyes. Chris's got no illusions, he knows Tony's imagining raving, not how good this is going to be. He doesn't care, whatever gets him through it is good enough for him. He finally opens his eyes and gestures and Chris scrambles onto the bed. His legs dangle off Tony's lap onto the floor, his torso against his sheets, stiff and sweet smelling from spilled coke.

The first strike comes unexpectedly. Chris had thought Tony for more hesitation before his final giving in to the situation, mental rebellion making him pause. It makes him jolt against Tony, arse trying far too late to get away from the swat. The head of his cock rubs against Tony's thigh, fabric rough against his sensitive skin, but better than his own hand. More real.

Tony spanks him again, and Chris thinks maybe he didn't know exactly what he was asking for. The slap makes his skin prickle, in a way that's not entirely nice. But it's too late, because Tony starts a quick rhythm, the same frequency you'd hit a basketball you were dribbling. Each adds a bit onto the fire that's quickly rising on his skin, and Chris doesn't know whether to rise back to meet them, or jerk away. It's bloody confusing, liking being hurt.

Luckily, his cock isn't as confused as his brain. His cock knows that rubbing up against a firm thigh is good, and that his throbbing arse is good because it's bad. There's nothing for his cock to figure out, it just gives out. Chris bites hard on his bottom lip as one last slap makes him gush.

"Ergh!" Tony shouts immediately. He shoves at Chris' hip until the blissed out teen rolls to his side, legs hardly holding his upper half up on the bed. "This was not part of our fucking deal!"

Chris can't help but giggle as he watches Tony's face, contorted with disgust. He picks up a sock from the floor and uses it to try to wipe the spunk off his jeans, but even as the white fluid comes off, there's a wet stain underneath. "You _fucker_ " he says, finally throwing the sock back down. He closes his eyes as Tony storms out of the room, and hears the front door slam a minute later.

He won't do it again, Chris is sure. Not even for ten free pills. But it was totally worth the loss, and hey, maybe Angie will be up for that sort of game! In Chris' world, everything is possible.  



End file.
